


When We Brighten

by rainbowhouse (shoesoftennis), shoesoftennis



Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage AU, Bad Parent Maryse Lightwood, Bad Parent Robert Lightwood, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Husbands, Kingdom of Edom, Kingdom of Idris, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prince Alec, Prince Magnus, siblings being siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25942423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoesoftennis/pseuds/rainbowhouse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoesoftennis/pseuds/shoesoftennis
Summary: After coming out to his parents, Prince Alec Lightwood of the Kingdom of Idris is arranged to marry the prince of Edom, Magnus Bane. Though glad to be wedding a man, Alec can't help the feelings of anger and fear toward the life his parents chose for him. He and Magnus can comfortably call each other friends--maybe even interested in the other--but can their friendship withstand the crushing weight of building a political alliance between two former war-torn countries?
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 32
Kudos: 73





	1. The Prince of the Hour

**Author's Note:**

> One of my friend's favorite tropes is arranged marriage, so I thought I'd write a malec fanfic for her. Hope you enjoy! Also no beta. We die like men.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus get married.

Two heavy teak doors were all that separated Alec from the sanctuary. They were closed and framed in white lace and lotus flowers, blushing petals flaking from the braided sprays. He straightened his collar—an anxious tic he had developed whenever he was required to wear a starched shirt that tried to ensnare his neck. He glanced at Isabelle who stood beside him in a red sarong and kebaya.

She held a bouquet of pale yellow jasmines, and her arms were bedecked in shimmering gold bracelets. Her dark smooth bun was held in place with a jasper hairpiece, the gems glowing like cat’s eyes. She looked every part the gorgeous, sunny bridesmaid their parents expected of her, but Alec was simply glad to have her close during the ceremony. She threw him a smile. “Don’t look so down,” she said. “At least it’s Magnus.”

 _Yes,_ he thought. _At least it’s Magnus. At least it’s a man, and at least I like him. This will not be the disaster you think it’s going to be._

Logic did not sway the curdling apprehension in his stomach. He was glad he had not eaten breakfast; he did not need to projectile vomit while walking down the aisle toward his future husband. Most people would agree that involuntary retching during a marriage ceremony was not an ideal start to a relationship or anything, really. He only hoped Magnus would take the pinched fear twisting Alec’s face as severe constipation or lingering seasickness. He didn’t want Magnus to think Alec _hated_ him or something ridiculous like that. 

And Alec didn’t. Couldn’t. Magnus had had nothing to do with Alec’s parents’ decision. The punishment they had deemed worthy for a son who had failed their bloodline. A part of Alec hated his parents for their reaction to his coming out, a part of him was relieved they had arranged a marriage with a man, and a third part of him realized, had he been straight, he would not have had any real choice in his bride. He was the firstborn son of a powerful royal family or, in more accurate terms, a political pawn. Not even a knight or a rook—a pawn. A disposable piece shoved on the front lines, the first to come into contact with the enemy. The first to be wiped off the board.

The sanctuary doors opened. A fanfare heralded Alec’s entrance, flutes and drums and zithers ringing in his ears. Every face in the chaitya turned to face him, and his collar tightened around his neck, cutting off his breath. He tried to smile easily, to relax the worry lines creasing his forehead, but he had never excelled at feigning happiness. His mother, standing in the front row, tapped under her chin and mouthed, _Smile._ Standing next to her was Jace, his golden hair aflame; he winked at Alec, but his stiff smile mirrored Alec’s own fear. Alec’s father stared at something above Alec’s head, refusing to meet his son’s gaze. Typical. Alec could always count on his father’s barely-concealed resentment.

Alec remembered clearly when he had told his parents. Those three damning words—they had tasted like ash: _I like men_. He saw his father’s face in his mind’s eye. Robert had stared and stared at him, unable to comprehend just what Alec had admitted. No matter how vehemently Maryse had demanded that Robert agree with her on some bullshit line (EX: “You’ll find the right girl. You have to keep looking. You can’t just give up and decide you’re gay!”), Robert had stayed silent. And stared. 

Finally, he had pushed away from the dining room table and walked out, leaving his plate of chicken and potatoes half-eaten. 

Alec tried to push those thoughts from his head. He was walking down the aisle toward Prince Magnus. His fiancé. His almost husband. The thought sent a shiver down Alec’s spine as he stopped in front of the pulpit and took the steps one at a time. There were three of them, but with his legs as heavy as boulders, it felt like there were fifty.

Once he reached the top, he found a hand held out to him. _Magnus_. 

Alec blinked owlishly up at his groom as if seeing him for the first time. Magnus wore a blue batik shirt embroidered with gold thread that swooped and whorled like the visual equivalent of a symphony, the sleeves ending in cuffs bejeweled with diamonds and opals. A gold silk sarong glittered about his legs, flowing like a molten waterfall when Magnus shifted closer to Alec. His black hair was slicked back, his ears inlaid with jasper earrings and small golden bars. Kohl lined his eyes and curled his lashes, and a hint of coral paint bloomed across his very kissable lips. Alec had never seen someone so alluring. 

“I think we should skip straight to the kissing part,” Magnus said breathlessly, voicing Alec’s own thoughts. He looked Alec over, his usually slitted pupils growing into discs. “I didn’t think you could get more handsome, but the very tempting sight in front of me has undoubtedly proved me wrong.”

Alec’s cheeks lit up. He glanced over his shoulder at his parents in the front row; neither of them were paying him any attention. Isabelle stood a step below, clutching her bouquet of flowers, but the smile she gave Alec betrayed none of her apprehension. _You can do it,_ she mouthed. 

He turned around, heaving a deep breath, and smiled shyly at Magnus. “Have a little patience,” he said.

Magnus sighed, the sound rising from his toes. “Patience is a virtue I still must learn,” he said.

“Think of it as temperance. Things often feel better when you wait for them,” Alec answered.

With a wave of his hand, Magnus banished Alec’s teasing wisdom. He turned them toward the ordained monk, squeezing Alec’s hand. “Ah, but the waiting can often bring more agony than the reward can soothe,” Magnus murmured into his ear, an out-of-place laugh puncturing such a cynical defense.

The monk’s voice filled the chaitya, but Alec could not concentrate on him. Magnus’ hand still clutched Alec’s, and Magnus would intermittently squeeze Alec’s palm or rub his thumb over Alec’s own. Every touch sent a flutter up Alec’s arm, and he was immediately glad his parents had picked Magnus. Magnus, the demon prince of Edom. The Edom that had declared war on the Kingdom of Idris centuries ago. The Great War had stretched out for nearly an eon and had only ended fifteen years ago, three years after Alec’s birth. 

Alec glanced at Magnus. The demon prince looked young with a sharp jaw and firm skin, but he was calamities older than Alec. The first time Alec had ever met Magnus, Magnus had said he was a thousand years old. A year later, he was suddenly 150. Just yesterday at dinner, King Asmodeus had said something about Magnus’ 454th birthday party.

Magnus had fought against Alec’s soldiers, his ancestors, and his parents. His brown hands were stained with grief and suffering, each little white scar on his knuckles representing a hundred casualties. The wound between the Kingdoms of Idris and Edom stretched wide and bloody; its legacy had stained green fields copper and razed cities to mangled piles of rubble. Half of Idris’ map was marked with blue flags that signaled ruins. Towns that had once stood tall and proud under summer’s shining sun now boasted mountains of charred wood and skeletons plastered in ash as soft as snow. 

Alec cursed himself silently. How could he have missed it? This marriage was a symbol of peace. It sent a message to the world that the Great War had finally ceased, but now Alec bore the burden of stabilizing Idris’ foreign relations with its old enemy. His punishment was not the arranged marriage but the task that rode on its fiery heels: fix the gaping divide between Idris and Edom alone. Isabelle and Jace would not be here for long to watch Alec’s back in this strange demon kingdom, so he had to rely on Magnus. He side-eyed his husband and squeezed his hand, trying to communicate the impossible anguish boiling inside him. Magnus tapped his thumb over Alec’s and hummed under his breath.

There was no way Alec could do this. How could he trust Magnus? He hardly knew him. They had met at a few balls, shared a couple passing looks at banquets, and took tea together once. He _liked_ Magnus but nothing more. A blossoming attraction between them held less promise than stranger tides; they would expect something from the other. To nurse a budding romance as well as navigate a wary court sounded like the disaster Alec had been expecting all along.

He heard Isabelle’s voice echoing in his mind, _At least it’s Magnus._

What did she know? What did any of them really know about the king of Edom’s son? That he was handsome? That he wore flashy clothing and had golden cat’s eyes as metallic as his wedding sarong? A bubble of irritation pushed at the sides of his ribs. His punishment was that he was not allowed to marry for love because his parents did not believe such things existed for a man who loved other men. Alec’s heart clawed at its cage, pounding and pounding and pounding away until Alec’s ears filled with its _ba-bump_ _bump BUMP_.

His parents despised demons and said the worst things about them at night, their harsh voices seeping through Alec’s bedroom ceiling. Why darkness made people braver with their words, Alec would never understand. You could not be seen in shadow, but it carried whispers like war cries.

Magnus’ hand suddenly squeezed Alec’s again. 

Ripped from his thoughts, all Alec could do was stare at Magnus’ gentle smiling face. Maybe not all hope was lost. Maybe his parents had made a mistake. Maybe Alec could find happiness even in adversity. He smiled back, praying it looked less painful than it felt.

“It’s time to kiss,” Magnus murmured. 

Oh. Right. They still had to do that. 

“Yes,” Alec breathed. His whole body pulled taut, and he glanced up at Magnus for guidance. Alec had not kissed many people, and when he had, his experience had not lived up to his fairytale expectations. Mouths were often too wet for Alec’s soigné taste. Also, people liked using their tongues; Alec did not like it when people used their tongues. The same complaint applied—too wet. 

Magnus leaned forward, stopping a hair’s breadth from Alec’s lips. There was a pause. It lasted too long and, simultaneously, not long enough. 

The demon prince’s lips were warm. That was the first thing Alec noticed after Magnus closed the chasm between them. The second was a sour note that hit Alec’s nose even under the overpowering scent of cinnamon. Magnus must have chewed a stick before the wedding, and the thought of Magnus worrying over such a small detail like bad breath inflamed Alec’s cheeks. He kissed the demon prince back, wrapping his arms around Magnus’ shoulders and tugging him closer. 

Polite applause filled the sanctuary, but Alec hardly heard it.

He smiled into the kiss, which turned it into a gentle brushing of lips. He pulled back to look at Magnus. “I’m surprised,” said Magnus, one dark eyebrow rising. “You’re not too bad.”

“At what? Kissing?” asked Alec.

Magnus let out a staccato laugh. “Yes, at kissing,” he said. “I expected you to try to shove your tongue down my throat immediately. That seems to be the fashion these days.”

“That’s something we can both agree on,” Alec said.

“Now, if done right—”

Alec held up a hand, and Magnus’ mouth snapped shut. “I beg you, save the tongue for later,” Alec said. He knitted their fingers together and started down the altar steps to the tune of that perpetual polite applause.

“Fine,” said Magnus. He took the lead, guiding Alec up the aisle. Jasmine petals fluttered underfoot, and with a wiggle of blue magic from Magnus’ fingertips, they spiraled from the teak floor in miniature cyclones. Alec stared at them in awe, blinking when a yellow petal balanced on the tip of his nose. Magnus plucked it from him and winked. “My blossom, our reception awaits.”

Alec couldn’t suppress his good-natured eye roll, and Magnus couldn't suppress the loud laugh that resonated above the subdued clapping. On the coattails of such a symphony, Alec and Magnus disappeared through the open doors. Every guest in attendance rumbled a prayer of thanks when the newlyweds finally left the chaitya. Their palms had all begun to sting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like my work? Support me on Patreon: www.patreon/rainbowhouse
> 
> Also, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	2. The Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reception is in full swing, and Asmodeus gets drunk.

An exorbitant amount of food covered the reception tables. Fish smothered in coconut curries steamed alongside mountains of rice; grilled pork and goat on skewers dripped with liquefied fat and spicy honey. There was a chicken soup that smelled of ginger, spice cake, and fried plantains coated in sugar. Coffee was passed around in glass carafes, the grounds settling at the bottom. 

Alec and Magnus sat together, their hands just barely touching. Across from them was Alec’s family. Isabelle and Jace started bickering the minute everyone took their places, and a strange sense of homesickness punched Alec in the balls. How could he live without his family? That question had haunted him since his parents had told him about the marriage, and now, he  _ was  _ married, and his family was going to drive off in a carriage without him in a few days’ time. There would be an empty seat between his brother and sister, and they would kill each other before they reached the harbor. If his parents didn’t kill them first.

He glanced at Magnus, desperate for a distraction, and noted the way Magnus talked with twirls of his hands. His golden eyes flickered like candlelight; his pupils danced like shadows. He was talking to the woman seated across from him, right beside Alec’s mother. The woman’s arms jingled with golden bracelets. Her hair was swept up into a bun, garnished with a topaz headpiece. They discussed the wedding decorations, the coffee being a hint too strong (Alec disagreed, but that was because Jace made coffee thicker than mud), and that the cook from the southern castle made the best fried plantains. Alec’s parents sat next to the woman with the bracelets. King Robert remained silent, eating slowly and sipping on his wine more than necessary. Queen Maryse glared at Isabelle and Jace and tried in vain to diffuse their petty arguments.

Other than Isabelle and Jace’s arguing, most of the dinner passed peacefully. It wasn’t until the final dessert course that someone said anything irritating, and that someone turned out to be King Asmodeus. He was a large fellow: muscular with broad shoulders and polished horns that spiraled out of the back of his head. He’d passed the evening guzzling down sweet wine, and his face burned bright red with drink. Alec glanced over at his own father. Though not nearly as red, King Robert’s cheeks gleamed pink, and his eyes were beginning to glass over. Alec glanced back at Asmodeus and thought with no small amount of humor,  _ At least I’ll have something to remind me of home. _

“There’s the matter of  _ consummation _ ,” slurred Asmodus. His voice carried, striking Alec in the heart. “Need to talk ‘bout it. With the wedding and... and all.”

He was addressing Magnus, but the entire table had quieted. Someone 

choked on their wine. Alec noticed his mother and father tense, and he wished desperately to slip under the table and become a rug. 

Of course, Alec had wondered how they could consummate their marriage. Edom and Idris, despite their differences, agreed that sex was defined as an act with intentions to produce a child. No matter how many times he and Magnus tried, they could definitely not conceive one of those. 

Magnus straightened. He did not look at his father, but his fist curled around his tiny dessert spoon, confirming that he was listening. 

Behind Alec, Jace whispered to Isabelle, “Oh my God, are we really going to talk about this now? I’m fucking eating.”

Alec couldn’t blame him; Alec had never ever wanted to talk about this, especially not in front of his wonderful, lovely, homophobic family. His stomach churned, his dinner threatening to make a dramatic exit. He swallowed the burning in his throat and felt it all the way down.

Asmodeus opened his mouth again, and Alec’s stomach tried to crawl out of him a second time. “ _ Is  _ the time,” insisted Asmodeus, his rimmed-red eyes narrowing at Magnus. The king’s words were thick in his throat, and the vowels ran together like agitated ocean waves. “Stop looking so nervous. You’ve fucked a boy before. Marriage has to be consummated, ya know, or it’ll be… um…” Asmodeus stopped and grasped for the word, blinking hard.

“Annulled,” said Queen Maryse, her voice tighter than a bolt.

“Ha! Yes, annulled,” the demon king exclaimed, banging his fist on the table.

Alec’s chest seized. Annulled? No one had told him he might only be married to Magnus for a month if they couldn’t convince the state to recognize gay butt sex as a legitimate form of consummation.

Now, the entire dining hall had quieted. Even the tables all the way across the cavernous room were staring, their wide eyes flickering from Magnus to Asmodeus and then finally to Alec. Alec realized, in that moment, that he wanted to die. He really, really did.

“Well, what’s a reception without a racy portrait of what’s to come in the grooms’ bedroom?” said Magnus, his voice laced with venom. He put down his dessert spoon and stood, a wine glass held between his fingers. “It’s what you all expect of us, isn’t it?” He looked at each one of the guests at the head table, and his face twisted into a desert-dry smile. “It’s what my dear old ayah expects.”

Asmodeus shrugged. 

Alec’s mind filled with a ringing loud enough to drown out Magnus’ words. How could this be happening to him? How had such a nice dinner come to this? And what the  _ fuck _ did Magnus think he was doing?

He pushed back from the table fast enough that his plate rattled. Jace and Isabelle stared at him, but neither of his parents met his eyes. “Thank you all for coming,” he said quickly, his throat shrinking with each word. “Let’s all finish our dessert now. There’s no need to ruin this wonderful evening with any talk of… of such divisive things.”

“Brilliant speech,” said Asmodeus. He sighed and waved a servant over, and they filled his cup. Alec thought about pouring the alcohol down his father-in-law’s shirt. “We have a real politician on our hands.” His golden eyes looked Alec over, and Alec glanced away, hiding his quivering fingers beneath the table. “How about you make it easier on all of us and just promise to fuck? As long as one of you is sticking your dicks in something, what should it matter?”

Alec’s blood seared beneath his skin. The tension in the room pulled at the hairs on his arms and skittered up his spine.

The demon king barked out a laugh, and the ceiling shuddered in response. A few nervous giggles followed from the guests, and Alec knew they did not want to offend Asmodeus, but it still felt like they were laughing at him. At Magnus. At what they were. 

“You’re right, my king,” said Magnus. He sounded calm, but the rage clenching his jaw told a different story. “Perhaps I should consider sticking my dick in our lovely dessert tonight.”

“Do what you want, boy. No sweat off my balls.”

Another ceiling-shaking guffaw followed. The dining hall filled with chuckles, stacking on top of each other and crescendoing until Alec’s head started ringing again. Intellectually, he still knew they hardly cared about him. They were more afraid of Asmodeus than interested in poking fun at him and Magnus. Still.  _ Still. _

His parents had stayed stone-faced throughout the entire exchange. Jace looked ready to blow, but Isabelle had a hand on his arm, stopping him from doing anything that would start another hundred year war.

Magnus rolled his eyes and set his wine glass down. “And on that note, Alec and I will retire,” he said. And though he smiled softly at Alec as he offered his arm, Alec saw the anger howling in him. 

Alec bowed stiffly to Asmodeus and his parents before taking Magnus’ arm. They departed to the beat of dying laughter and Alec’s shuddering heart. Magnus led him down long corridors flanked with torches and up two flights of stairs, their journey ending in front of a pair of teak doors. The royal insignia of a snake ensnaring a shield gleamed in the torchlight, the snake’s ruby eyes flashing. They had not talked the entire way there, and Alec could feel the tension that had stalked them from the dining hall hovering over them like a dark cloud.

Magnus opened the door for Alec, and he slid into Magnus’ sitting room. Magnus followed, shutting the door with a soft thump. A blue flame flared to life on the tip of Magnus’ finger, and he lit a few candles with his magic, a sleepy haze illuminating the bedroom.

With a sheepish smile, Magnus turned to Alec. “I apologize for my father. He’s abrasive at best and detrimental at worst,” Magnus murmured. “I think he saw me hoping he wouldn’t make a scene and decided embarrassing us would settle for his evening entertainment.”

“We were the easiest to embarrass,” Alec conceded. He glanced into Magnus’ darkened bedroom, wondering how it would feel to sleep beside someone for the first time. To sleep with Magnus. Shame welled in his stomach, and the sudden urge to cry at anything and everything surged through him. 

What was wrong with loving a man if you were one? Why did people have to make such a big deal out of it? So what if you couldn’t conceive a child? Some women were barren, some men dysfunctional. What did it fucking matter?

“I suppose you’re right,” Magnus said. “I’m not going to defend him. He’s told you all you need to know already.”

_ Yes, he has,  _ Alec thought, but he stayed quiet.

“Well, now that  _ that _ ordeal’s done, why don’t we retire early? I can’t speak for you, but I’m exhausted from being toyed with by my delightful father,” said Magnus, his tone light but his words heavy as iron.

“I think that’s the best idea,” Alec said.

They stood frozen for a moment. Alec wasn’t sure if he should call a servant to draw a bath, change into nightclothes, or simply fall onto the bed and sleep until the sun woke him. He also wasn’t sure if he should do any of those things. He was about to say something stupid when Magnus said, “I had your clothes put away in my closet. Er, our closet.”

That made things easier. “Thank you,” said Alec. He hoped he sounded as grateful as he felt.

Magnus led him into the bedroom, and instead of lighting the candles one by one, he snapped his fingers, and the chandelier above them sputtered to life. That same drowsy blue glow poured over them. Moonlight streamed in through golden curtains, and it danced over Magnus’ brown skin as he tossed open the closet doors. “Ah, yes, here we are,” he said brightly, retrieving a silk nightgown. He turned and flung it at Alec without warning.

Alec caught and unfolded it. “Thank you,” he said again.

“Good reflexes,” Magnus praised. He directed his attention back to his closet and rummaged through the drawers, resurfacing with a red robe. He began peeling off his clothes, and Alec quickly glanced away, a blush ripe on his cheeks.

Magnus glanced over his shoulder and blinked. “What?” he said in a voice softer than velvet. “Too much too soon?”

“Uh, no. I mean, I guess we are married,” Alec murmured.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Magnus said with a shrug. He held his sarong in one hand, his shirt unbuttoned. His nipples were hardening in the cooler air, and Alec sucked in a sharp breath. He wanted to touch every part of Magnus: that defined chest, the elegant slope of his neck, his hard-cut jaw. Fuck, Magnus was doing this to him on purpose, wasn’t he?

“Too late,” Alec said. He had meant it mostly as a joke, but Magnus seemed to take it seriously.

His face fell almost imperceptibly, and he nodded, laying his sarong over the foot of his bedframe. “Okay, I’ll change in the bathroom then,” he said. He disappeared into the washroom and closed the door before Alec could think of an argument.

Alec ran his hands through his hair, cursing himself. Now Alec seemed like an asshole to his new hot husband who had probably had as much choice in this arranged marriage thing as Alec. He threw himself onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress, and despite—or maybe because of—the anxiety plaguing him, he fell into a deep exhausted sleep before Magnus returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the second chapter! School has been crazy with COVID and all that, so thanks for being patient!


	3. Of Breakfasts and Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec sees something strange. He and Magnus have breakfast together. Then, Alec goes to see his siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the support! I'm going to work on replying to each of your comments after I post this chapter because I want to encourage as many comments as possible! They really keep me going! Also, here's the Spotify playlist for anyone interested in it (it isn't finished, so I'll be adding more songs to it as I write): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0cNyGp6hQVQWeQbp0l2ERf?si=BZMeHcN6QUaSjdoFvmipnw

Alec awakened with a jolt, and for a moment, he had no idea where he was. The sheets were too slippery beneath his sweating skin, and the air was sharp, thick, like the staticked aftermath of a thunderclap. He stayed stock still, panic straining every muscle. The darkness stretching infinitely before him was too complete.

Then Alec heard soft snoring from somewhere in the shadows, and his whole body relaxed. Right. He was married and sleeping with a demon prince. He reached a hand out and was surprised to find the other side of the bed cold, the blankets undisturbed. He slipped out from under his own blankets, wondering if that was Magnus snoring. He sincerely hoped it was.

As his eyes adjusted, he dodged the trunk at the end of the bed and tiptoed out into the sitting room. A flash of lightning forked outside the window, illuminating Magnus. He was laying on the couch, an upturned book perched on his lap. 

Alec smiled softly. A dark spike of hair had fallen between Magnus’ eyes, and Alec felt the need to brush it back. He restrained himself, searching instead for a blanket to cover his husband. A fluffy lavender one laid atop the opposite couch, and Alec tucked the top two corners around Magnus’ shoulder after removing his book. He made sure Magnus’ feet were not sticking out, and once he was satisfied with his work, he turned away before his instinct to comb back Magnus’ hair overwhelmed him. They had not reached that level of intimacy yet. Hell, they hadn’t even slept together, and it was their wedding night.

With unease growing in his stomach like a tumor, Alec headed back to the bedroom. He stopped at the doorway. Turned. Watched Magnus’ chest expand, deflate, expand, deflate. He wanted to wake Magnus and coax him into bed, just for the closeness it offered. Magnus: the demon prince who had stolen Alec’s heart upon first sight. Magnus: his husband who had opted to sleep on the couch on their wedding night. Magnus: who looked angelic even as he snored like an old man. Alec wished to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, to curl into his arms, to touch Magnus’ chest and commit every slope of his body to memory.

Instead of doing any of that, however, Alec tumbled back into bed and tucked the covers under his chin. A light drizzle began, followed by a rumble of thunder. He listened to the storm’s rhythm, counting the rests between thunderclaps.

The curtains framing the window shifted, and a hiss of rain spit onto the sill, dripping onto the stone floor. Alec sighed, untangled himself from the warm blankets, and padded over to the window. He was about to shut it when he saw something in the distance. A white light stark against the gloom. Gone the next moment like a rain-kissed match. 

Alec leaned forward, squinting against the gloom. When lightning threaded through tar-black clouds and brightened the grounds, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just wet grass and two guards making their rounds along the castle wall, their night vision eyes glinting in the flash.

Alec shut the panes with a definitive thump.  _ Probably just some demon using magic, _ he thought, recalling the glowing chandelier Magnus had kindled this evening,  _ or a ghost from my dreams.  _ Alec glanced into the sitting room, now able to make out Magnus’ outline on the couch. Once again, he wished to coax his new husband into bed. An anxious buzz sang in his veins, and he knew it would prevent him from sleeping, no matter his level of exhaustion. He wanted a comforting presence beside him, something that would soothe his fears, but he couldn’t wake Magnus. That snoring was too precious.

For the second time that night, Alec decided against rousing Magnus and instead slid under the blankets, mourning the moments he’d suffered without them.

***

A knock on the bedroom door startled Alec. He had been half awake for the past hour, trying his damnedest to avoid the vivid sunshine pouring through the windows.  
Now, he sat up, running a hand through his hair to tame it. “Hello?” he called.

The door opened, revealing Magnus in that red robe from last night. Alec tried not to stare at his chest: the slight incline of his pecs, his nipples visible through the delicate silk. Magnus’ brilliant smile was the only sight that compared. “Breakfast has arrived, and may I say, it smells absolutely scrumptious,” he said.

With the door ajar, Alec could smell coffee, ginger, chicken, and spicy things he could not name. He followed Magnus through the sitting room and onto the veranda, shielding his sensitive eyes to the sun. He sat down next to Magnus and stared at the spread before them; it looked just as grand as the banquet last night but in vaguely smaller quantities. He wondered what the markets in the capital looked like the morning of a palace event and if the citizens dreaded the stripped stalls, depleted until only the subpar products remained.  _ If that, _ Alec thought.

Alec spooned some chicken, rice, and egg onto his plate, wondering if he was just being dramatic. No reports of urban starvation had leaked from Edom, but the magnanimous amount of food in front of him was worrying. In Idris, he and his family had moved castles every season to keep from consuming all the resources from the surrounding cities, and he knew Edom had only two courts: Dark and Light. Which meant only two castles.

Dark Court was held in the south when winter swept across the country, and Light met in the north where the summer heat was not as severe. He and Magnus had been married in the Sanctuary of Feather Souls, connected to the castle of the Light Court. Both structures as well as the royal hunting grounds, stables, and servants’ quarters were sanctioned off from the remainder of the capital, so Alec had not seen any commoners on their carriage ride to the sanctuary. However, he had heard their cheering from behind the obsidian walls lining the main road. Light Court was a city within a city, but it could not sustain itself without the people it kept out.

Magnus, unbothered by Alec’s darkening thoughts, streaked a red sauce across Alec’s food and winked at him. “Sambel Pecel,” he said. “I highly doubt you’ve had it before, but I promise you, it’ll at least be an experience.”

“Thank you?” said Alec, staring at the sauce. “Are those peanuts?”

“No, I’m so sorry to be the one to inform you, but those are fried human livers. A true delicacy. Nothing finer.”

Alec glanced over at Magnus, saw the smile his new husband was trying to reign in, and chuckled. “Just in time. I heard cannibalism is making a comeback,” he said.

“Did you sharpen that tongue especially for me?” asked Magnus, placing his hand atop Alec’s. Alec faced him, a blush tinting his cheeks. Inches separated them, inches of nothing but crackling static Alec almost enjoyed.

Magnus’ eyes were golden like Asmodeus’. The pupils tapered into slits, looking like someone had cut the eyes out of a cat and transplanted them into Magnus’ head, and while that image was ghastly, Alec found them mesmerizing. But before Alec could tell him, Magnus said, “What?”

“Your eyes, they’re really… nice,” said Alec, cringing when  _ nice  _ was the word that tumbled out of his mouth.  _ Literally anything else. You literally couldn’t think of  _ anything  _ else? _ he chastised himself.

“Well, I’m glad you do,” Magnus said, an emotion Alec could not interpret interlacing the syllables.

Alec took a bite of his breakfast and chewed slowly, his mind desperately trying to decipher Magnus’ tone. Was he angry? Sad? A mix of both? “They’re like a cat’s,” Alec finally said.

“They’re like my father’s,” Magnus said. This time, an edge whetted his voice, and Alec understood. He had not escaped unscathed from a very public dinner with King Asmodeus—his own reception, no less. He dreaded the day he would have to hold the king’s private audience, and he could not imagine what it was like to have him as a father. An image of Alec’s own father appeared in his mind, and he swiftly pushed it away, unable to deal with his own issues currently.

Magnus loathed bearing resemblance to his father; that much was obvious. Alec wondered if this marriage was a way to extricate himself from Asmodeus’ influence. From his forbidding nature. From the war that still scarred the countryside along the Cold Valley. 

Often, Alec had wondered how prideful one had to be to send young men to die over a piece of land no bigger than either side’s coastline. He side-eyed Magnus who sipped his coffee. Had he fought in the war? Had he seen blood turn grass to copper and watched life drain from a soldier’s face? Had he killed with that soft blue magic, turned it into a crackling energy blade or a blinding arrow? Had those cat’s eyes narrowed on their prey and hunted through a tangle of bodies and slick earth and clashing swords? Certainly Magnus had witnessed more than Alec wanted to know.

“They look different to me,” Alec murmured. He had not noticed the king’s eyes, but a white lie seemed appropriate. Magnus’ frown pinched his face, aged it with glacial sharpness. Alec hated what even the mention of Asmodeus did to his husband.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Alec added after a few more moments of silence, trying to sound less desperate than he felt.

He needed Magnus to like him. Their marriage may have been little more than a political stunt to their parents, but Alec had no intention of living with someone he vaguely tolerated for the rest of his life. He wanted to be friends with Magnus, to intensify the attraction from when they first met. Heat crept up his neck when he remembered their afternoon tea in the Kroy Empire’s capital city. They had both been attending an engagement party, and the day after, Magnus and Alec had run into each other in the halls, and Magnus had asked him to tea. The thought of refusing had never even crossed Alec’s mind, but that memory seemed leagues away now, lost to Kroy’s narrow streets and leaning red brick buildings.

The smile painting Magnus’ face might as well have been a frown. The sadness in it, held in the deep corners of his lips, reached his beautifully devastating eyes. “Little do you know, my offense is highly regarded and hard to come by,” Magnus said with a gentle laugh. “I simply wish beauty paired better with goodness than… well, my father.”

“Is he that bad?” Alec asked, knowing the answer.

“Unfortunately.”

“Let me guess, last night was one of the tamer things he’s said at a public function.”

A real smile stole Magnus’ face, and he ran a hand through his dark hair. “Definitely one of the nicest,” said Magnus.

Sympathy ached beneath Alec’s heart. It came as no surprise that the king of demons had a tense relationship with his son, but to hear the words spoken aloud cemented Alec’s fears. Though a naïve part of him had hoped Asmodeus was not as bad as he seemed.

“I’m sorry,” Alec murmured.

Magnus shook his head. “No amount of apologies from you can fix my relationship with my father, Alexander, but thank you for trying,” he said.

Another apology almost tumbled from Alec’s lips, but he bit his tongue, corralling it. Magnus had a point. No matter how much Alec wanted to change things, saying he was sorry for something beyond his control helped nothing.

“Anyway, I have a meeting with my father’s war generals at noon, so I should finish my breakfast soon,” Magnus said. He returned to his food, poking at a piece of chicken. 

Alec nodded and sipped his now-cold coffee. He gave up on the chicken completely.

When Magnus left for his meeting, dressed in blue silk robes lined with gold thread that looked very becoming on him, Alec took the opportunity to find his family. He asked a servant to lead him to their quarters, and when he was deposited at Isabelle’s door, he knocked on it. “Izzy?” he called.

She emerged a moment later, fully dressed. She smirked when she saw him. “Well, how was it?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “Did you guys… you know? Was it hot?”

Alec sighed. His sister could exhaust all his patience with one sentence; she and Jace excelled at it. “No, we didn’t  _ you know _ . We just slept,” Alec said.

_ A room away,  _ a nasty voice inside his head reminded him.

Why  _ had  _ Magnus opted for the couch? Alec had heard enough gossip about Magnus to know he definitely was not a virgin. Maybe Alec had given Magnus the wrong idea with his poorly timed joke.  _ Too late.  _ Why the fuck had he said something like that? What was wrong with him?

“Pity,” said Isabelle, tugging Alec from his thoughts. “I wanted juicy wedding night details.”

“Poor you,” Alec snapped back.

Isabelle grinned wickedly. “No no, I think it’s poor  _ you _ . You’re the one who married a hot demon prince who you even had a  _ crush  _ on beforehand, and you were denied hot demon prince sex,” she teased, jabbing Alec in the side.

He yanked away from her but not before her nail jabbed into his ribs. “Ow!” he yelped, shooting her a withering glare. “What the hell, don’t do that!”

With a laugh, Isabelle spun away and banged on the door next to hers. “Jace, wake up. Your pathetic older brother has some sobering news to tell you,” she shouted.

“Oh God,” Alec muttered, rubbing his temples and regretting his choice to ever acknowledge his family again.

Jace ripped open his door. He was still wearing pajamas: a tank top and shorts that showed off a bit too much of his ass, but he leaned on the doorframe casually, unfairly confident in that ridiculous outfit. “Do tell,” he said, his eyebrow wiggle a mirror of Isabelle’s.

“First, I am not pathetic,” Alec said, narrowing his eyes at his sister, “and second, we were exhausted. We’re not allowed to sleep on our wedding night? You act as if it’s a fucking crime.”

“Whoa, wait, back up. You skipped the sex? The animalistic mating?” Jace said.

“The  _ what _ ?” Alec screeched.

Isabelle burst out laughing.

With a shrug, Jace said, “Look, if it was my wedding night, I’d be all over who I married if they were as gorgeous as Magnus.”

Alec’s jaw dropped. “You think Magnus is gorgeous?”

Another shrug. “What can I say? Those thighs of his got the ol’ drawbridge going, if you know what I mean.”

Isabelle’s laughter shrieked down the hall, and Alec wanted to punch her in the face. Jace, too. “Never ever call your dick  _ the ol’ drawbridge _ again,” Alec warned, stabbing a finger in Jace’s chest.

Jace held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, in my defense—”

“Alec,” interrupted a cool, all-too-familiar voice. 

Isabelle’s laughter tapered out, and as it did, ice stole through Alec’s veins. He turned. His mother stood a few yards away, her face a mask wrestling with all her emotions. “Oh, hi, Mom,” Alec said, straightening his back instinctively.

“You’re all making such a racket,” Queen Maryse said. “Are you trying to wake the dead?”

“It would make for a cool party,” said Jace.

Maryse sighed, her level gaze never straying from Alec. “Where is your… husband?” she asked, and Alec could tell she had tried not to stumble over the word but failed miserably.

“He’s at a meeting,” Alec told her.

“And why aren’t you there?”

Alec gritted his teeth and forced the anger tumbling in his ribs down. “It’s not one I expect to be invited to until he trusts me. The war may be over, Mom, but conviction is a whole other beast. I suspect his top generals would not take kindly to my presence.”

“It’s important that he entrusts you with martial matters as well as everything else. See to it that you don’t let him walk all over you, Alec,” Maryse said. “He is a demon, after all. An old and powerful one at that.”

“I know.”

“I hope you do. For your sake as well as Idris’.”

For the life of him, Alec could not tell if his mother was expressing her doubt of his diplomatic skills or if she was truly concerned for his well-being. He prayed it was the latter. “Yes, Mom,” he murmured.

Maryse closed the space between them and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She sighed softly. “Why couldn’t you have kept your secret to yourself?” she asked, her voice low and sad. “Why did you have to make it so hard for all of us? And you?”

A piece of Alec’s heart cracked off, cascading into an abyss yawning open inside him. Books hailed heartbreak as some romantic endeavor only for the strong-willed, but Alec wondered how anyone could romanticize something that tried to devour you from the inside out. Words escaped him, so he stayed silent, waiting for the world to right itself. Waiting for his mother to love him again.

“What is wrong with you?” Isabelle snarled. Loud, angry Isabelle who scared all the boys off and drove his mother batshit crazy.

Alec loved his sister fiercely with every stone-heavy bone in his body.

Maryse’s hand dropped from Alec’s shoulder, and she swept past him, striding towards Isabelle. Her heels clicked against the floor like swords falling from their scabbards. “What have I told you about that tone, Isabelle?” Maryse hissed. 

“Don’t start with me,” Isabelle hissed back. “You’re acting as if he had a choice. As if he  _ wanted  _ you to punish him. So again, I’m asking you, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

The following silence sizzled like fire. It was as if they were all connected by a taut bowstring, the tension between them a poisonous arrow ready to fly. 

“I’m not talking to you about this right now,” Maryse said, regaining her composure. Frost thickened her tongue. “Any of you.”

Queen Maryse let those final words hang in the air, sharpened like an executioner’s blade. Her heels clicked again on the cobblestones, each step an echo of a war that had yet to end. And Alec hoped against hope that he could scrounge up the courage to finish it.


	4. Ghosts, Big and Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Alec finally talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to upload! I'm almost done with finals, and hopefully, I'll be able to finish chapter 5 before Christmas!

Magnus did not return until well after sundown. Alec had not noticed that Magnus’ eyes were outlined in kohl this morning, but he saw the smudges clearly now, fading to gray behind Magnus’ bottom lashes.

Alec took a gamble. “Rough day?”

Magnus rubbed his temples, the bracelets on his wrist jingling. “Particularly so. I went to that horrible war meeting, and do you know what they wanted? An increase in taxes to fund a complete standing army. We haven’t had a standing army since, well…” Magnus stopped and glanced at Alec, a humorless smile stretching his mouth. He continued slowly, “Since a little after your birth, I believe. And then, when I brought up how many starved bodies we’d have bloating in the street, their next suggestion was for me to wheedle a loan from your parents since I am now married to you. Since I have  _ leverage _ . So, I told them, ‘Well, you’ve made me feel like quite the fussy wench.’”

Alec hid a smile behind his hand. 

“What are you smiling about? I’ve been thoroughly wronged,” said Magnus, plopping on the couch, his robes billowing dramatically and settling with just as much flourish.

“Thoroughly,” said Alec. 

“Alexander, you wound me further.”

This time, Alec didn’t hide his smile or the laugh that followed.

Magnus stretched and draped one arm across the back of the couch, his hand brushing Alec’s shoulder. Alec hid his hitching breath behind a little cough. “Oh well, I suppose I can forgive you,” he said, smiling at Alec. “I expect someone’s already been up to prepare our bed, but before I prepare myself for bed, I’m going to pour a glass of wine and forget my skills in the bedroom were ever discussed as a bargaining chip. Would you like some wine, Alexander?”

It was a tempting offer. With how his mother had treated him this morning, Alec deserved a drink, but he decided against it. “No, thank you,” he said.

Magnus shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, standing up and stretching again. His back popped, and he grunted, rubbing the protesting muscles. He sashayed toward his personal office, and Alec shook his head with a smile, telling himself not to peek at Magnus’ butt.. 

Instead, he tucked his chin down and picked at his green silk tunic. He wished he had woken Magnus last night and coaxed him into bed. He wanted to be able to reach out and feel his husband’s warmth, to curl into him on bitter winter nights when even the fire wasn’t enough to ward off the creeping chill. He just wanted to sleep with Magnus. 

Shit… who was he kidding? He wanted to grab Magnus by the back of the neck and kiss him until they were both dizzy, but he couldn’t shake his mother’s condescending voice. He couldn’t shake how much she disapproved of him being gay. Today had recalled things Alec desperately wanted to forget. His coming out had been a horrible, humiliating shitshow, and he had wrongly thought that the worst was behind them. Queen Maryse had made it her divine duty to steer Alec away from any cute boys, instead pointing out princesses and heiresses apparent with mountainsides of gold to their names. She would plan walks in the royal gardens for Alec with various matches, and he would stumble through these dates with as much grace as a monkey in a tutu. He didn’t know what had possessed his mother to promise his hand to Magnus, but he thanked the gods everyday for that blessing.

Magnus reappeared with a blank black bottle, the cork branded with Edom’s snake-and-shield insignia. He set it down on the coffee table and fetched a handpainted clay cup from a cabinet across from the couch. He turned to Alec, his hand on a second cup. “Last chance to change your mind,” Magnus offered.

“Thank you, but my answer is still no,” said Alec. 

“A pity,” said Magnus. 

He sat next to Alec and poured himself a half cup of wine. He leaned back against the couch again, his arm once again flung out behind Alec’s head. Alec resisted the urge to move closer.

“What do you think of taking a trip?” Magnus asked suddenly. He smiled at Alec, his eyes soft and shining with excitement. “You and me, once your family has left for Idris, of course. It’ll be a honeymoon of sorts. I had one planned out before the wedding, but I didn’t want to force you into anything before I knew you were comfortable with me.”

The confession startled Alec as much as it warmed him. He bit the inside of his cheek, pleased that Magnus had spent time planning a honeymoon. Magnus wanted to travel with Alec, spend time with him away from the bedroom and mealtimes. Honestly, Alec did not know what he had done to make Magnus like him so much; he wasn’t especially charming. He’d fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow last night and effectively stolen Magnus’ bed. He’d given Magnus the impression that he did not ever want Magnus to touch him. Alec was a fucking mess, but he couldn’t own it like his two other siblings. 

A soft blush tinted Alec’s cheeks. “Where do you propose?” he asked. “And to be clear, I am comfortable with you.”

“You can tell me if you’re not,” Magnus said gently. He touched a finger to Alec’s knee, and a spark pulsed under Alec’s skin at the sudden contact.

“I am,” Alec insisted. The truth had never sounded more like a lie. He nearly groaned. Why had he said that stupid joke yesterday, and why hadn’t he stayed awake? They could have avoided this entire uncomfortable situation if he had just shut his mouth and said something normal, or stayed awake long enough to tell his new husband goodnight. 

Magnus heaved a deep breath. “Do you want to sleep together tonight?” he asked, his words slow and deliberate like he was picking them from between gnarled thorns. 

Pressure released in Alec’s chest. “I wanted to last night, but I screwed up,” he murmured.

Magnus’ lips parted, and he looked like something was harping on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed it back and tried again, “No, Alec, I simply misunderstood.”

“No, I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was so goddamn stupid,” Alec said, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes and racking his brain for a way to explain himself. “It was—I meant it as a joke. My brother, Jace, the blond one, says things like that all the time, and I guess I just took a page out of his book, and I shouldn’t have. I… I’m sorry, Magnus.”

“Oh,” said Magnus. He blinked then blinked again. “I suppose I can forgive you since, after all, I also have a habit of making terrible jokes.” A smile broke out across his face, and he took Alec’s hand in his, squeezing it like he had during the wedding. The action unlocked the tension in Alec’s shoulders, and he reflected Magnus’ smile. 

“I would love to hear your terrible jokes,” said Alec.

Magnus laughed. “Prepare yourself. They are truly terrible and said at tremendously inopportune times.”

“Perfect,” said Alec, squeezing Magnus’ hand back. He leaned his head gingerly against Magnus’ shoulder. 

Magnus’ breath hitched softly, and he planted a chaste kiss on Alec’s forehead. Both of them were wading through uncharted waters, each step a testament to their building trust. Alec’s heart fluttered tender wings, and he craned his head, locking their gazes together. Their faces hovered a dangerously short distance apart. The urge to kiss Magnus washed over him, buzzing between his lips, itching in his throat. 

But before either of them could make the first move, shouts and loud footsteps sounded outside the door. “Prince Magnus!” cried an unfamiliar girl’s voice. “Let me go! I need to speak with him!”

“Madam, calm down,” said one of the guards stationed at the door. “The prince does not take visitors in his private quarters.”

Red tendrils slipped through the crack separating the doors, furling around the interior handles. Alec’s eyes widened.

For a moment, the entire castle seemed to still. No one shouted, no one moved, no one even breathed. Then the doors burst apart. They hit the wall with a loud thump, revealing a girl with hair red as flame, held by the arm by a shocked guard. Her magic returned to her like a dog on a leash, outlining her in a pulsing glow. 

She locked eyes with Magnus and Alec. The aura around her dimmed, and she shook out of the guard’s grip. “Looks like he is now,” she sneered.

Magnus recovered first. “Looks like I am,” he said. He picked up the bottle of wine and tipped it toward the girl like a salute. “Wine?”

***

When Magnus asked for the third time, Alec opted for a full cup of wine. He sat on the couch beside Magnus, staring at the girl in the loveseat. She was obviously human, no strange demon markings like green skin or cat ears, and now that she no longer looked like an unhinged witch who had busted into their room with little warning, familiarity nagged at him. A wildfire crown of hair like that was not easily forgotten. 

Despite the tension that laced the living room, no one spoke until Magnus had slowly sipped his wine, held it on his tongue, and swallowed it. Only after did he speak, “I haven’t seen any human wield magic since the war.”

Alec side-eyed his husband, picking up on the cool undertones. Magnus did not look at him; his eyes pinned the girl in her seat, clocking every movement she made.

“I’m a special case,” the girl said, her nose wrinkling in irritation.

“I can see that,” replied Magnus, “and what I want to know is  _ why  _ you’re a special case. Care to elaborate?”

“Not really. I came here for one reason, and that’s to tell you that someone’s on these castle grounds who is not supposed to be here,” the girl hissed. She leaned forward, her jaw clenched.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “And who might that be? Truthfully, I would rather see most of our wedding guests fall into pig shit, so to whom are you specifically referring?”

“I said not  _ supposed  _ to be here. Trust me, he’s not the type you invite to weddings between demons and humans, and he definitely didn’t bring a gift.”

“Well then, he really must go. Who is this mysterious intruder, anyway, and why are you so intent on telling me instead of the palace guards?”

The girl clenched her hands into fists. Alec noticed she had begun to shake, and a spike of fear drove through him. Whatever news this girl had, it was enough to frighten even her, and she had a well of power to draw from. What the hell had she seen?

“Valentine, former king of Kroy. He’s sadly also known as my father,” said Princess Clary, spitting out her father’s name like it burned her mouth to speak it.

Magnus barked a bitter, cruel laugh. The sound startled Alec, and he looked up, a chill scissoring through him. The demon prince’s face had twisted into something angular and steely, his lips peeling back to reveal glittering incisors. “Valentine is long gone. I locked him away myself in a hole of a fortress hundreds of miles from here,” snapped Magnus. “It seems that the only thing you’ve seen is a ghost.”

The princess squared her shoulders, unperturbed. “I pray you’re right,” she said. “But I’ve seen ghosts of my father, Prince Magnus. I see them everyday, and I’m very familiar with what shapes they take. This was no ghost. Valentine is alive, and I have the sneaking suspicion that he didn’t find his way here alone.”


End file.
